Fuzzy Wuzzy
by Temperance
Summary: SLASH - Just a quick little fluffy fluffball, written for a fic prompt wherein the only requirement is there be something fuzzy in it and I managed to also include slashy... sure, it's difficult, but you've got to want it. Dean/Castiel


**Author**: Temperance

**Rating**: PG; kissing and a tiny teeny bit of swearing

**Spoilers**: Minor mentions of show time fun but nothing overtly spoilery

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural… because if I did this is the kind of stuff I would do with it.

**A/N**: I wrote this for a "warm and fuzzy" contest over at .com/deancastiel/ although "contest" implies that you'll win something and this was sort of a light hearted free for all... I guess it's more of a "challenge"... Anyway, I wrote this but it was way too long to meet the 750 word limit and it had to be trimmed way down (and I think the trim _really_ detracts from the story) so I'm posting the unedited drabble here.

* * *

The van was _awesome_! A true super 70's rockin' shaggin' wagon and, therefore, Sam hated. Dean, however, loved it. It was perfect, from the plush white shag carpet in the back, to the multicolored disco light, right down to the pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view. The body was basic black with a glitter finish and Dean loved to cruise in it. He'd drive from Bobby's to the store, down the main drag in the small town, at speeds reserved only for children learning to ride on training wheels and slugs. Sam would hide his head in shame but Dean practically hung out the window, winking at any tail he saw, smiling like the Cheshire cat. Sam finally refused to ride in the van, instead opting to remain at Bobby's until the Impala was fixed. In truth, replacing the rear window was cake, but once Dean saw Stacey, the sweet van Bobby had bought at an auction, he'd been in no hurry to fix his Baby and return to demon hunting, not when there was a van with a glitter finish calling his name.

They ran low on provisions again, and Bobby gave Dean a look that conveyed "you crash at my house eat all my food, and now you want me to go shopping for you? You must be out of your damned mind", so Dean toddled off to re-stock. Sam declined Dean's offer to tag along, giving Dean some alone time with Stacey and Dean relished it. Dean hated to put the groceries into the back of the van, they crushed the shag, but it was a necessity and Dean tried to minimize the damage by placing the bags as close to the front seat as he could. As he drove back to Bobby's, however, the bags slid; plastic bags plus shag carpet equals slippery, slidey and an angry Dean.

When Dean finally reached Bobby's he had to crawl into the back, scowling and cussing under his breath, to fetch the renegade groceries. A package of bacon over there, a box of powdered donuts here, all manner of groceries scattered around. Dean stuffed things roughly into bags, cursing the checkout kid for not properly securing them in the first place, and mourned the wreck he was making of the shag.

"Dean."

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around and vaulting to his feet, his head connected with the roof of the van hard and pain flared behind his eyes before he succumbed to the darkness. Slowly, Dean awoke, the warm, fuzzy shag carpet tickled his skin, and Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel's big blue eyes gazing intently down at him.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Castiel said.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have snuck up on me in the back of a van," Dean said groggily.

Dean sat up but swayed woozily as his balance failed him, and nearly took a header face first into the shag. Instead he slumped to his right, jarring his shoulder as he slammed into the side of the van. Castiel moved to crouch nearer to Dean, his impassive eyes on Dean's face, only ever showing the faintest glimmer of emotion. Dean sighed and clenched his eyes shut as the van began spinning.

"I need to talk to you about Chuck," Castiel said.

Chuck, the Prophet. Dean and Sam were limping away from his neck of the woods after their not-quite-a-tussle with Lilith. To be honest, Dean didn't want to think about Chuck ever again. He didn't like the idea that Chuck was always watching him, seeing what Dean was doing, _watching him have sex_. Dean just wanted to leave Chuck behind and forget the man even existed but here Cas was, bringing Chuck into the forefront.

"What about him?" Dean asked.

"You can't contact him again," Cas said gravely. "The others are protecting him fiercely now; they won't allow another... incursion."

Dean balked, stared at Cas, his mouth agape. "Another _incursion_? Another -- man, why the hell would we go back there?"

"He has information about you," Castiel said simply, "he knows your future."

"Which would be _of no use whatsoever_," Dean yelled. He instantly regretted it as his head started to pulsate and pain began to radiate down his spine. Dean sighed wearily; "Chuck's visions can't help us, what good is it to know there's a horrific future coming if you can't change it?"

Castiel stared at Dean, his intense eyes sweeping Dean's face, and with another weary sigh Dean closed his eyes. He heard Castiel move, felt the van shift as he did, he felt Castiel's hands on his shoulders. Castiel turned Dean around until Dean could lean his back against the side of the van, Dean let his head fall back with a heavy thump. He saw stars, only these stars were tiny sparks of light behind his eyes and not gaudy earrings on an inattentive mother. Dean felt Castiel's shoulder brace against his own as Cas sat beside him. Dean allowed most of his weight to shift, allowed himself to prop up against Castiel's solid frame.

"You need to be more careful," Castiel said.

"You need to not sneak up on people," Dean murmured.

Dean could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, he knew that he shouldn't sleep with a concussion but he couldn't stop.

"Dean," Castiel called softly, gruffly. Dean slurred a response that was unintelligible and let his head lull, let it rest in the crook of Castiel's neck. "Dean," Castiel repeated with a little more force. Dean ignored him.

Castiel rested a hand on Dean's knee gingerly, turned his head nearly a full 190 degrees, craned to see Dean's face. Dean didn't even flinch. Castiel slid his hand off of Dean's knee and slipped it around Dean's waist, he pulled Dean's face up to a few inches away from his own and cupped Dean's cheek with his free hand. Dean's glassy eyes opened and slowly focused. Castiel's big blue concerned eyes peered down at him. Castiel's plush, pink, parted lips stood so close to his own. Castiel's gentle hands on him, one at his back, one cupping his face, and Dean acted on instinct. Moving, more like plummeting, Dean mashed his lips to Castiel's. Castiel stayed still, rigid as always, as Dean's lips pressed to his. Dean moved his lips against Castiel's, trying to entice the angel into the kiss, but Castiel didn't comply. Dean stopped abruptly and leaned away from Castiel.

Dean's head felt better, the pain was gone, his vision was clear, and he had a feeling it was due to his utter humiliation blocking out his ability to process pain. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and his temperature rising, it had to be overriding the part of his brain whining that he was injured. Dean dared to look up at Castiel and the angel's face was as impassive as ever, no hint of anger, shame, or embarrassment. Cas stared unblinking at Dean.

Dean cleared his throat and looked away, looked around the van, looked anywhere but at Castiel. His hands toyed with the fuzz of white carpet. "My, uh, my ice cream's melting so... so, I had better get this stuff inside."

Dean looked back over at Castiel and Cas nodded minutely. Dean moved to go about picking up the groceries and, when he glanced over his shoulder again, Cas was gone. Dean stopped what he was doing and tossed the items in his hands to the floor forcefully.

"Shit," Dean hissed.

Across the lot, atop a stack of old cars, Castiel watched as Dean finished retrieving the groceries from the back of the van. He watched with interest as Dean trudged across the lot, arguing and cursing himself under his breath. He watched as Dean stopped, debating, turned away from the house, kicked at the ground, then turned back and continued on again. A genuine, bemused, forbidden smile slipped easily onto Castiel's face and, as he watched Dean cross the lot, he couldn't seem to make himself stop grinning. Castiel touched his lips softly, ran his fingers over them, reveling in the tiny tingles that still sparked. Dean crossed the threshold into the house and disappeared as Castiel did.


End file.
